Worgen Worgen
by Amali Roarka
Summary: An orphan girl, 16, remembers nothing of her life from before a year. At night, she finds and takes a strange stone. After meddling with it, all she does is end up in a city unknown to her, surrounded with people similar, yet so different from her. She was a hated orphan back home, but her racial nationalism kicks in despite. At night, she meets one who will try and rid her of it.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Hello, and welcome to Worgen Worgen. I hope you enjoy your stay. :D

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**Hearthstone**

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_It was a long day, _a tired thought stirs through the mind of a small teenage girl curled up on her sturdy old bed. Her room smells of poor, and nothing else. It is almost empty, the only things in there being her bed and a small, half-rotten desk, barely standing up. A strangely large cockroach scurries across its empty surface, except for the dust kept in layers. It leaves a trail in the dust.

It is dark, and it is silent. It is not always like that. The girl takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes. It really was a long day, like it always is. She pulls her quilt tighter, though it is not cold.

Everyone is asleep by the time in the house. It is late in the night, or simply early in the day. Her old clock announces midnight with a tiny sound of a tiny bell. The girl sighs, watching the cockroach disappear in the dark shadows in her room.

She sits up with another sigh escaping her lungs, brushing away the quilt. She stares through the large window from across her, staring into the dark of the late night and too early morning. She stands up.

It is not even her house, she just stays the night there. They happen to have a spare room they never use, and let her enter through the large window, keeping the door locked. They like to stay away from her. It hurts, hurts to much, and she hates thinking about it, but there is nothing she can do about it.

She shivers, approaching the locked door. It is a fine piece of wood, seemingly expensive and of an illustrious crafter. She, a poor orphan, spends time behind closed door of a room of a rich family. They gave her the two things, old and rotten, and of worst quality, and it brings a horrible feeling to her chest.

Not everyone hates orphans - most people are warm and lovely towards her, but not this family. However, that family has a room for her.

She steps away from the door, turning around and walking over to the window at a slow pace. It is really dark, though it is usually bathed in a soothing moonlight. Slowly, she opens the creaking window, wincing at every sound it makes. It is loud in the darkness of the still night.

_Oh, dear Lor'danel, _she thinks, furrowing her eyebrows. She closes the window behind her, leaving it open only so much that she could get in again at a later time.

It was a long day, yet now it will be an even longer one. There is no one she has on her birthday.

She paces slowly across the small Lor'danel, taking in a deep breath, reaching the shoreline. Strong waves crash against the sandy shore further away from the town, everything being dark. The ocean is freezing cold, yet the crabs do not seem to mind, going about their business after the waves pull back for a moment. The trees are dark, the grass is dark. Except in Lor'danel. It is a small night elf settlement, placed on a patch of land between two waterfalls. Only long wooden bridges connect them to the mainland of Darkshore. Also, unlike the rest of Darkshore, the trees and grass are vibrant green in Lor'danel.

The girl sits as close as possible to the loud southern waterfall, as well as the southern bridge, sitting with her back leaned on one of the pillars holding the shrine of Elune. It is a source of light, bright light, as well. It is also a source of peace for the night elves.

The girl sighs, closing her eyes. It is a place of peace, for sure. She misses her homeland, yet somehow she likes it better away from the horrible memories at home. Gilneas holds an amount of pain she cannot handle.

A flickering blue light appears next to her, and disappears just as suddenly. She looks to her left, where it appeared, and leans over to see what the small white rock is. It was not there moments ago.

She stretches her hand out, wrapping her fingers around the warm, oval stone with two flat sides, almost purely white in colour. She brings it to the light of the shrine, noticing the blue carved swirl going from the edge to the centre of the stone, on both of the flat sides. She remembers seeing and hearing about those stones around Lor'danel, but she cannot quite remember its name. She does not have one of her own. She does not travel around, anyway.

She runs a finger along the swirl on one side of the stone, and the line glows a bright blue, the stone rising from her palm, floating. Green strands of light surround it, glowing brighter and brighter, and each strand circles around it at a high speed. The girl tries to move her palm away, but the stone follows. A strange feeling tugs at her arm, forcing her to put the other hand close to the stone as if holding it with both hands. The light becomes even brighter and brighter with the passing moment.

At one point it, it becomes bright as possible, and the girl gets a strange feeling within her, magic pulling her in all directions. It is not an unpleasant feeling, but rather feels like home. The girl can feel warmth from within her, reminding her of a fireplace. A hearth.

"It's called a hearthstone," she tells herself, gasping as the magic finally gets the whole of her, making her disappear from Lor'danel.

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A/N

If you have come this far, thank you for reading the first chapter of Worgen Worgen. :D (The title might change over time.)

I would really appreciate if you left a review of any kind, telling me what you thought of this! I accept all criticism, as long as you have something to say to help me improve the parts you did not like. :]

This is perhaps too little to judge from in detail, sure, but for now, you can say something about my writing, and the feel of the story. ^_^

If you liked it, and would like to read more, you can say that as well, and you can follow or favourite the story, whichever you like. :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Stormwind City**

* * *

The girl blinks a few times before realising where she is. She is in an inn. One that is unfamiliar to her.

She finds herself sitting at a table, facing some bookshelves from across the small room. To the right, she sees a darkened staircase leading upward. It looks nothing like inside of an elf house. When she sees a shorthaired redhead human woman, she is convinced she is nowhere near elven lands. The woman is wearing a long dress, which reaches the floor, coloured white and blue. The upper, short sleeved part is white, and it turns blue at her waist. She is wearing a wide brown belt over it. The girl will never understand non-Gilnean humans.

She takes another look at her surroundings. All is made of wood, and the large chandelier looking like a ship's helm is hanging low above their heads, held by heavy chains. The books are messily placed upon the bookshelves, which irks the girl. She looks away. There is only one table, it being the one the girl is at, and it is placed on a green carpet. The other thing surrounded by chairs is a large, golden bearskin to the left of the girl. She grimaces at the sight, then looks back at the woman, the only other living being in the inn.

"Excuse me?" the girl says, not knowing what else to say. The woman shifted in place all the time, looking around and waiting for customers with folded arms. She turns around, not having noticed a person suddenly appear in her inn.

"Oh, hello, when have you come here?" she asks, eyeing the girl as she walks over to the table. "I don't remember giving a hearthstone to someone your age." The girl shrugs.

"I found a lost hearthstone back home, and accidentally activated it," she says.

"Oh, and where do you come from?" the woman asks, tilting her head and smiling. She seems very kind of a person, the girl concludes.

"Lor'danel," the girl says.

"Oh, really?" the woman blinks. "How did you end up in Lor'danel?"

"I am not exactly human," the girl says. A shadow crosses the woman's eyes, but soon she flashes a bright smile at the girl again.

"Oh, well," she says. "That explains it better. Anyway, my name is Allison and I am the innkeeper here. What's your name?"

"I don't have a name," the girl says, confused a bit at the woman's kindness. The woman gasps.

"How come not? What did they call you?"

"Orphan...," the girl bows her head low. "I forgot my name somehow." The woman frowns a little.

"They did not use any name?" she asks, avoiding the memories of the invasion of Gilneas.

"Only two kids used a name. Each had their own, since I answered to anything they wanted to call me," the girl says. "They also had a name both of them called me."

"And what were those names? Not any insults I hope?" Allison asks.

"No, they are normal names," the girl says. "Callum and Ilta. The third one was Amelia. It is what most used when there were more orphans around. That was rare."

"Well, which name do you prefer?" Allison asks.

"I don't know," the girl says.

"Okay, let's see," Allison says, tapping her chin. "Amelia sounds most human, Ilta sounds good, and Callum sounds male, at least to me."

"Well, it is," the girl says, glancing away.

"Okay, either Amelia or Ilta, then," Allison says, folding her arms. "Which one do you feel fits you better?" The girl bites her lip.

"Ilta," she says finally.

"Good!" Allison says, smiling. The girl bows her head down.

"But...I don't know," she says. Allison's smile vanishes.

"Do you have any other name in mind?" she asks.

"Runa," the girl says.

"Okay, then, Runa it is! Is it?" Allison says, chuckling. The girl nods.

"Runa it is," she says with a small smile. She hasn't smiled to someone in a long time.

"Perfect! Would you like a surname with that?" Allison says.

"I already have one I know," the girl says.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, most of the worgen refugees that passed through Lor'danel commented I look a lot like some Sykes in his human form, who they believe is my dad," she says. "They don't know of his fate, though."

"Oh, well, I hope he survived," Allison says.

"I do, too," the girl says.

* * *

After some more time talking and a few passing customers, Allison offers Runa to stay the night, which she accepts. There is still a lot of time till nightfall, so Allison gets her a guide, that being an off-duty guard, Allison's friend.

"Greetings," the man says, standing tall next to Runa. He has a deep voice fitting his rough image, and is wearing casual clothing like most humans walking around and chatting. The city is a lively one.

"Hello," Runa says. "What is this city's name, again?" The guard flinches a bit, but pats her head.

"It's Stormwind city," he says.

"Oh," the girl says. Some of the worgen passing through Lor'danel spoke about it as the human capital.

First, the guard, Matthias leads Runa away from the inn, the crowded area of blue rooftops called Trade District to a long, large stone bridge above a small body of water of a narrow moat. That area between the gate and the rest of Stormwind is a place he calls The Valley of Heroes. Four enormous statues are lined up on the edges of it, two on each side.

"These are the members of an expedition through the Dark Portal," Matthias says. He turns around, nodding towards a statue standing at the end of the main road where it splits to lead into Trade District, where they came from. "And this is their High General." Runa walks over to the statue of a man holding a broken blade in his hand, leaning on his chest. She looks at the inscription.

_General Turalyon_

_Former Lieutenant to Lord __Anduin Lothar__. __Knight of the Silver Hand__. High General of the __Alliance Expedition__that marched into the orc homeworld of __Draenor__. Presumed deceased._

_Esarus thar no'Darador - By Blood and Honour We Serve._

_You were the right hand of justice and virtue, old friend. Your name will be honoured in our halls always._

_\- Lord __Uther the Lightbringer__\- Knight of the Silver Hand_

Without a word, she walks over to the first statue to the left of her - an elf female. Like all statues, she is facing south, to the gate of Stormwind. In the lowered hand she is holding a bow, while a large hawk is on her other, held up hand, its wings spread wide.

The inscription for this one says:

_Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner_

_Renowned Troll Hunter of __Quel'Thalas__. Lead Scout and Intelligence Agent for the __Alliance Expedition__ that marched into the orc homeworld of __Draenor__. Presumed deceased._

_Your heart flew straight as any arrow upon the wind, sister. You were the brightest of our Order. You were the most beloved of our kin._

_\- __Sylvanas Windrunner__\- Ranger General of Quel'Thalas_

Runa decides she heard of the elf in Lor'danel once. A few people of all races pass by on their various mounts, followed by small pets chasing after them to catch up, but Runa pays little mind. She has seen a lot of mounts in Lor'danel and on the occasional trip to Darnassus.

The statue from across Alleria's is that of an old mage, pointing his long staff to the sky. Next to him is a dwarf, holding his large hammer up to the sky. To the opposite of him stands a statue of yet another human, this one clenching one fist, a long sword strapped to his back. Runa gives them only a glance. All the statues look magnificent under the bright sun, but they do not interest Runa too much.

Stormwind City is a great city in Runa's eyes, yet something is missing. As she sees all the races crowding the city, she grimaces at how much like vagrants they are compared to Runa's memory of Gilneas. She remembers its greatness, and how polite everyone was, and everything was orderly. They are..._were_ far better than the senseless crowd of Stormwind.

She shakes her head. She had never had such thoughts about the elves, but perhaps because they have a city much more orderly than Stormwind. Gilneans are much better than all other humans, Runa concludes. Gilneans would never have such a mess in their city. Unfortunately, Gilneas is gone. Fortunately, many of its people remain.

After giving her a short tour of the rest of the city, as well as paying a visit to Genn Greymane at the Stormwind Keep, Matthias brings Runa back to the Gilded Roses inn, Allison greeting them. The sun is already setting, and after the hours long tour Runa remembered it was midnight in Lor'danel when she came to Stormwind. Now, it was probably time for the early birds of Lor'danel to wake up, and Runa is going to sleep.

"Good night," the two tell her when they close the door of a small room upstairs, above the inn.

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A/N

Hello, again. Thanks for reading :D In hopes you will leave a review of your thoughts, and follow/fav the story if you liked it, I bid you farewell. :D


	3. Chapter 3

**The Curse**

* * *

Runa jerks awake. Covered in sweat, she gets out of the bed, grasping her aching head in her hands. She walks to the door, her breathing heavy and loud, and opens them. The moonlight lights her room, but it does not help much with the dark stairways. Actually, Runa has no idea where Allison sleeps.

Shaking the thought of fetching the innkeeper away, she rushes downstairs and out of the inn through the window. The door is locked.

Rushing through the still unfamiliar, yet not unknown streets of Stormwind, Runa is panting. Curious eyes of drunkards lying about in alleyways follow her as she passes by, step by step transforming.

She comes to a stop just across the bridge from The Stockades. Two guards are standing at the entrance, their legs almost giving up on standing at such a time. Runa goes around Trade District, heading towards Cathedral Square. Bright moonlight lights her path and reflects in the still water of the Canals.

She stops on the bridge to Cathedral Square, looking at the water beneath her. She does not see herself, but she sees a different person in the form of a worgen, the large lupine humanoid beast. On the inside, too, there was a different, more feral personality to match the appearance.

Runa growls to herself, clenching her fists. The ferocity of the worgen pushed back the better of her on the inside, causing a raging chaos. She howls into the night, running off the bridge and to the left of Cathedral Square, where the harbour is. Ships to Lor'danel sail from there, she has heard. She can go home. Not the real home, sadly.

A few guards walk around the harbour, unaware of Runa stalking them. She sneaks around, almost devoid of moral. It has been so long since the curse, a whole year even, yet she is not used to it, she is not in complete control. Her two personalities are two opposites, but she is in luck that it is not too often she is forced to transform. The feral one shows up, and dominates, only in her worgen form.

She lets out a low growl, prowling forward on all four, her long claws scratching the stone floor underneath her. Staying low, she moves forward, the guards' chatter louder and louder, and they are so close she can almost hear them breathe, as well as their heartbeat. All other sounds at the harbour do not exist for her at that moment. She loses herself, the moon soft on her skin, bright and allowing her a better vision in the night. She moves more forward and forward.

However, she could not know there is another thing stalking around the harbour.

Two strong hands grab her legs from behind, pulling her backwards. Unwilling to give her position away to the oblivious guards, she stays silent and turns to look over her shoulder.

A male human is crouching behind her, holding her back from attacking. She growls at him, but he does not let go. On the contrary, he pulls her away by her legs, and she can't do anything, unable to dig her claws anywhere in the ground.

"What is wrong with you?" the man asks, hissing in a low tone. The guards just glanced around in their direction with innocent looks on their faces, soon returning to their cheery chatter. Runa's breathing becomes heavier as her prey leaves. She scrambles to her feet, clenching her large, clawed fists. The man tilts his head in question as she stands up himself, ruffling his greasy, dirty blonde hair. "Will I get an answer?" Runa understands him perfectly. She is just much more savage as a worgen. And a beast with its hunt cut off is not a calm beast.

She slashes her claws at the man, letting out a deep growl. She is somewhat taller than him, which is only natural. Moonlight might make her scarier, and it has slight effect on the man. However, he disappears from her sight. She stops with her claw mid air, confusion taking over her lupine face, eyes widening and mouth dropping. Perhaps a rogue.

He proves her theory correct when she feels a thin, jagged blade against her throat. She growls in protest, but he does not let go. Rather, he leads her away from the harbour, crossing back the bridge to Trade District, but leading her left, to Old Town. Even more a proof he is a rogue.

Old Town is not a pleasant place. Less fumes and more light than Dwarven District across the bridge, but far more deserted, if not counting the underground rogue settlement and the battleground area, as well as the training grounds for warriors and rogues. Old Town is rustic, and all in all old, differing a lot from the rest of Stormwind.

The man pushes her towards the rogue settlement, the entrance just where the training grounds are. A lot of eyes turn to them, the place almost crowded, yet dead silent. The dagger moves away.

She obeys the man's nudging and goes where he leads. She realises she must look like a mutt, not only being a worgen, but wearing loose-fitting clothing not to rip upon the change. She looks around, several worgen eyes locked on her as she passes with the man behind her. They look curious, yet disapproving, as if they can feel something is wrong about it all.

Runa takes in a deep breath, yet still feels the urge to rip the man's throat out. Too much adrenaline, she supposes. She won't be able to go back is what her inner, hidden her tells her. The weak one, the one out of control.

She knows she can control it if only she tries, but she can't do it on her own. Back in Lor'danel, there is no one to help her. Perhaps it is good the rogue stopped her from killing the guards and fleeing to her fake home. Her normal side pops in her head.

"Why did you want to kill those guards?" the man asks in a low hiss, one forefinger pointed at her, the other arm crossing his chest and resting on the elbow of the first one. Anger is flaring in his eyes as he steps closer. Runa growls a warning. Again, the feral one shoves the normal one away from the spotlight. It is strange, knowing that you are mindless. The worst part is remembering it all, as her personalities are not completely split. It is good for her worgen one to calm down after some time of peace, but not good for the human one to break down under pressure and adrenaline. She snaps her jaw and the man steps back. She leans back in the seat, free of chains. "Answer me."

"No reason," she says after a short while, her normal one coming back again. She can almost feel it win, but the memory of the guards stops it yet again, but does not shove it away. "My instincts kicked in. I am not like the other worgen, I have not had any training in that form. I haven't had any warmth towards me in my human one, either, since I fled home. If there was some, it was too little, and too rare." The man streaks his short, rough beard, a frown settling on his face. Runa can feel the worgen half disappear. She closes her eyes and wills it to vanish. It is not as simple as it seems. It fights back, and her stomach turns as her brain overheats from all of it. Her whole body is trembling inside out as it contorts back to human, a painful process. The druidic transformation is without a single feeling of pain or similar, a transformation Runa wishes.

She shifts on the chair. She can feel it finally go away, but the pain remains as the curse pulls back and she slowly transforms back, taking in quick, shallow breaths as she opens her eyes again, wide in shock. The pain lingers throughout her for a moment longer. The man is looking straight at her. She adjusts her shirt, gulping.

"I wouldn't know how it feels to be lonely," the man shrugs.

"Only a mentally strong person could come out as normal from loneliness," she says, tilting her head. No one is strong enough, though.

"Okay," the man says, streaking his beard again. "Now that you are human again, what's your name?" Runa debated it for a moment on the inside, and sighed. Once again, she did not like the name she claimed as her own.

"I don't have one," she says.

"You don't have one?" the man asks. She shakes her head away, eyebrows furrowing. "You didn't even give one to yourself?" She shakes her head away again. "Okay, then. Pick one, now." Runa groans. "What's your class?"

"Undetermined," she says.

"Oh, you're still underage?" the man asks, receiving a brief nod as a reply. "Anyway, what would you want to be?"

"Druid," she says, glancing around the dark room.

"Are you in training?" he asks.

"Was until the invasion," she says. "There was a night elf back in Lor'danel with whom I trained sometimes, but it was rare. I never went to Darnassus for training, only for the sake of leaving Lor'danel for a bit, though they do have a few night elf trainers there."

"Okay," the man nods. "We have a trainer here, at Olivia's Pond, I'll show you in the morning."

"I think a guard already showed me where it is," she says.

"Good," he says. "This one is a worgen like you, she came from Gilneas. I don't know her name, though, I just know of her."

"Celestine, most likely," she says. The man shrugs.

"Anyway, you will sleep here," he says, pointing behind her. She squints in the darkness as she looks over her shoulder, noticing a bed there. "It is not much, but it is all we can give you."

"I have a stay at the Gilded Roses inn," she says, looking back at the man.

"Well, you obviously escaped from there," he says, rolling his eyes. "You'll stay here. My name is William, by the way. Good night." He salutes weakly and leaves, locking the door behind him. Runa walks over to the bed, sitting on it. Worse than the inn's, yet better than the one in Lor'danel.

A single thought about wanting to escape from them occupies her mind until she feels the curse itching from under her skin. She cuts the thought, closing her eyes. She is not having it once more that night.

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A/N

Hello :D If you liked this chapter, you can let me know in the reviews. :D Same for constructive criticism! All of it is welcome. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**The Stockade**

* * *

_I should be thrown into the wilderness as a worgen._

The curse is something that cannot be explained to the common man. Not without him screaming with fear, at least. They all know what worgen are, but none knows there are Greymane worgen who are not close to 'complete control'. And Runa is one of them.

Somehow, her instincts kicked in while she was asleep. She woke up as a worgen, and that is when her memory stops. All she remembers after that is she found herself lying unconscious in a smaller pool of blood in an alleyway, next to the corpse of some beggar. Just as the morning sun shone, she woke up, and she was caught by the Stormwind City Guard. Two are now pulling her away in her weak, and weakened human form. She groans. They are so weak under the curse. If only it was easy to achieve the control, if only it was easy to shut out the evil alter ego, or whatever. If only...

But Runa is sure she cannot do it. She is weak. She had not a single transformation back at Lor'danel, yet in Stormwind she transformed twice in one night. _It must be the stress, the lack of homeland, the mess of this city and the horror in my soul upon seeing these humans._ The Gilnean nationalism kicks in once more as the two humans drag her along. Her legs are just too weak.

"I do not see how two pesky humans can do such a thing to me," she says, not even thinking about her words. "I am Gilnean, for Light's sake, Gilnean! Oh, damn. I hate being dragged by inferiors just because I am weaker. At least when I am in my human form." She groans once more as her legs hurt more from scraping against the floor. She manages to stand on her feet, which makes it less painful for her overall.

They drag her from the Trade District's alleyway to the nearby Stockade. It is an old, rotten dungeon filled with numerous criminals, their leaders being of an organisation Matthias called the Defias Brotherhood. They do not seem like anything good.

She grimaces as they reach the small stone building, and they push her down the cold stone stairs. Some of their own people stand on guard around the first two prison cells. A distance away, one of the prisoners is standing in front of the entrance to one of the second two cells. They push her past the guards and send her staggering to the criminal. He looks on her, glancing over her every now and then to check on the guards. They roam free within the Stockade, but they cannot leave. Runa does not think it is a good tactic, but she decides not to dwell on it. They are not her people.

"Who are you?" the criminal asks, growling. He looks weathered, timeworn, and overall he does not look taken care of. He is a criminal, after all.

"A new prisoner," she says, glancing over her shoulder. The guards are standing still, keeping an eye on the criminal. Runa shifts in her place.

"Oh, really, kid?" the criminal asks, laughing at her.

"Yes," she says. "I killed some beggar in my blackout."

"Blackout?"

"I am a worgen," she says. The man mouths an 'oh', and nods in understanding. Some fear seems to creep into his expression.

"Understood," he says. Nobody would want a dangerous beast like a worgen in their midst. "Follow me, then, prisoner." He walks away, turning to the left where the corridor splits. On the end of the main corridor is a room, but the two criminals as guards on the outside intimidate her and do not allow her to look in, though there is no door. The only doors are those bars in prison cells down short stairways on the sides of the corridors.

Runa scurries down the stairs in the left wing of the dungeon. The man slows a bit until she catches up. In that wing, there are some creatures unfamiliar to her. "This is the gnoll wing, and this is where you will be," the criminal says.

"Gnoll?" Runa asks, looking at the strange creatures. She can almost say they are some sort of strange worgen. They do have some resemblance. For example, they are humanoid creatures, and they are from an animal. However, they let out strange sounds which sound like strange, high-pitched laughter. It is something Runa has never heard in her life so she cannot guess what animal they are, but it looks cat-like. She has never seen any animal that resembles them, though. They have a large humps on their back.

"Yes, these hyena-like humanoids," the criminal says.

"Hyenas?" Runa asks. She has never heard of such an animal. The criminal glances over his shoulder. The gnolls lock their eyes on the two, though not for long. Each keeps it several seconds at most, soon after getting into an argument with another gnoll close by. Listening to what they speak of, Runa can hear a Low Common, and sometimes broken Common come from them.

"You have a lot to learn here," the criminal says. "You, Gilneans, know nothing of the world."

"Sure," Runa grimaces. They stop in front of a door to a large room at the end of the corridor. "What is it?"

"Hogger," the criminal calls, ignoring her. The strange laugh reaches them again, a large gnoll playing with his axe. "Look." He pushes Runa forward. Hogger, as the criminal called him, deranges in a second, swinging his axe around.

"Forest just setback!" he shouts, charging. He is quick on his feet, which worries the hell out of Runa. She can feel her curse itching underneath her skin, trying to get out. It is actually just trying to protect her. It is the same with the multiple personality disorder, when you think about it. Runa's young friend back in Gilneas had something like it. Before she got slaughtered by the undead.

She pushes it back, though. The criminal pulls her behind himself and stops Hogger by almost shoving his long simple sword through the gnoll's throat. Hogger lets out the strange sound again and backs away to the centre of the circular room.

"Who she? Grrr...," Hogger says.

"A new prisoner," the criminal says. Runa shivers. Will she have to be with them all the time? She does not like the idea.

"Grrr...," Hogger says. "Fresh meat..." He licks half his face with his long tongue.

"No," the criminal says. "A new recruit to out Brotherhood, if she passes." Hogger yelps.

"Yes, yes," he says, bowing his head a little.

"I'll take her to Randolph," the criminal says. "If he accepts her, I'll put her here." Without waiting for Hogger's answer, the criminal pulls her away, leading her back to the main corridor. She glances into the other corridor, seeing elementals rumbling and crackling as they move around. The criminal pulls her into the room.

Randolph, who says that his surname is Moloch, bows down, clenching his fist around his sword. Runa stays in the background while the criminal talks to Moloch, moments later pulling her back to Hogger. Hogger yelps and looks like he will devour her, so the criminal soon gives up on letting her be with them and leads her to the main corridor. They have only two cells left occupied, the first two in the dungeon taken by the wary Alliance.

He leads her into the emptier one, its occupants turning to glance at them, soon returning to their card game. It seems unfamiliar to Runa, but then again, she knows nothing of the outer world, that much the criminal is correct. Gilneans were cut off from the world, especially recently.

"You will stay here," the criminal says, pushing her in the cell, locking it. It is an almost new-looking cell.

"Is it because I told you of my blackout?"

"Yes." He leaves without another word, the others ignoring her. She drops to the ground, sighing. It could have gone worse - they could have killed her on arrival amongst them, yet that criminal kept her alive and gave her a spot for herself.

_Oh, well._

If only she had that hearthstone now.

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A/N

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review (please?)!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

I have not posted in ages! Sorry, if there was anyone hoping to read this story. :D Here is chapter 5 (my deepest apologies, heh!)"

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**Just another riot**

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Runa yawns. That is all she has been doing for the past two days. She has been given some harsh sword training, and they all found out she was a worgen within the first twenty-four hours. It is only logical for them to know whom they are dealing with, of course, and she is glad they do not seem to fear her too much. They know all too well they outnumber her, and they are trained assassins, if they are from the Defias Brotherhood Matthias talked about. Still, when she sees them, they act natural, as if being a worgen is something normal. At Lor'danel, elves are normal towards other, passing worgen, too, but she is hated. Is it because she is an orphan? Still, why would they hate _her_? It makes no sense whatsoever. Perhaps it was because she was living on their pays to survive.

She walks back and forth through the corridor, playing with a bandana given to her by the criminal who brought her in, and the one whom she now knows as Maverick. She wears it around her neck, as a scarf, more or less.

"Hey, worgen girl," Maverick calls. He never calls her by her name. Perhaps because she never told him his name.

"It is Runa," she says.

"What a stupid name," Maverick comments to himself, then pulls her towards where Hogger is. She raises an eyebrow, but he spares not a glance at her nor says anything more. "Here she is." He pushes her before Hogger, who licks his long muzzle.

"You're not gonna eat me, are you?" she asks, taking a step back. Hogger lets out the strange laugh of a gnoll, shaking his head maniacally.

"You worgen," Hogger says. "Show." Runa grimaces, scratching her arm. The last thing she wants is transformation. She glances over her shoulder at Maverick, who nods her to do it. _It hurts._

Still, she concentrates. She remembers the moon, she brings up stressful memories and fear in her mind. She never tried controlling her transformation, or to force her transformation. It seems to hurt less the less she opposes it. It seems more natural. Still, she can feel the tinge of pain as her body contorts and grows rough black hair all over, her skull deforming and turning into the long skull of a wolf. Her ears change, pressure hurting her more than any other transformation, her feet changing shape and deforming along with the rest of the body. The most natural feel the hands, and the general structure of her body and arms. Her legs and head are different, a lot more different, and painful. Her clothes are ripped on her in places, stretching on her larger body.

"Yes, yes," Hogger screeches, stepping forward. Runa takes an uneasy step back. For the first time, it seems she knows who she is as a worgen, completely. The more Hogger closes in on her, though, the more the feral side of her pushes its way to the surface. She gulps, and tries to remain coolheaded. That is an uneasy task to take up, as Hogger is standing just a step away, and a length of the hand away. She just needs to take a strong swipe at him to start a fight between them. However, the fact that a lot of _her_ is present, she keeps in mind she cannot know if other gnoll will attack or not. Her arms starts itching just as the large gnoll moves away, laughing. "Yes!" he shouts. Maverick walks down the couple of steps and into the round room, arms folded over his chest. "Fine worgen." Hogger turns away, no one paying any more attention to Runa.

"Now, worgen, you can go back," Maverick says, nodding to the corridor behind him. Runa follows suit as he disappears there again, speeding a little to walks side by side with him. He looked up at her. "Who'd know? I wasn't sure you'd transform. You haven't transformed once."

"There wasn't a bit of the moon, and not a lot of stress," Runa guesses. "Nothing could cause it."

"You managed to transform on your own, then," Maverick says. Runa shrugs.

"Still, it is not near good," she says, grimacing at the thought of the pain. Does it ever go away?

"It will be good with training," Maverick says, letting her walk freely again. After there were no incidents with her for the first two or three nights, he let her walk around like any other of them, though under the watchful eye of the enraged and wary Alliance guards. If they want, the criminals can easily swarm and break down the guard and break free in the city. The guards should not be that hard to kill. Everyone is killable. Not that many guards can be that highly skilled to beat a hundred of Bandanas on their own. Or is Runa again just being uneducated about the world? It is hard for her to think those humans know that much more than she does, a Gilnean. _It hurts._

Runa frowns. Perhaps she should think of getting herself a new name. Not that anyone would care. No one but two people know her as Runa. She is still worried about not knowing her own name, yet remembering some people from Gilneas. She hopes it will come back to her, the memory of herself, complete.

She takes in a deep breath, tying the red bandana around her neck. It is warm against her skin, though it is not cold. It is spring. And she is in a dungeon. And she is still a worgen, she realises. She winces at the realisation. She did not turn back to human. Right. She forced the transformation, so she has to transform back to a human, too. She takes in a deep breath. She hates tattered clothes.

The transformation back is that much less painful, and is rather relaxing and relieving. The pain goes away, pain that is there, but you cannot exactly feel it in the worgen form. Still, it is there, and you know it was there only when you go back to human. It is always like that, no matter what caused the transformation - a bad temper, a moon, or the person's will to transform.

Her tattered clothes fall around her, but still, they are not too tattered. They are just stretched out quite a bit, slightly ripping in places.

She sits down next to the others in her cell. They are playing cards, again. They cannot seem to stop playing cards. They are like little children, reeking of alcohol and doing nothing but playing cards. It is really a worthless life down in the Stockade, definitely. If only she could get away from there. She almost begged something to get that greasy rogue to get her out. Sure, he saved her once, but now she is a murderer. A worgen. The goddamn Curse. Getting in the way of her life.

She learned the rules of the game a couple of days ago. It is a simple game, simplest she has ever heard of. However, it is better than listening to those people talk. They have stupid ideas, and stupid minds overall, and it is so much better listening to them curse one another with creative foul words while tossing cards on the table. The number of players is not limited, but she enjoys watching more than participating, not eager to hear those words pointed at her at some point. The men with her in the cell and those across the corridor are the weakest and the worst of the scum. They never do anything, just spend their time under the rule of Moloch. Criminals are all scum, but at least those down the corridor act better.

She lets out a low, quiet sigh, watching the cards as they soundly hit the surface of the dusty wooden table. She wants to get away, see the moon, and breathe fresh air. She does not want to be with those people, she just wants to go outside. She wants Gilneas back. She does not want the Curse. It all hurt deep inside. She lost her name, her home, her family and friends. She has only Lor'danel left, though no one is good to her back there. They have probably forgotten her already, relieves she is gone. That is a possibility. She takes in a shaky breath. She is Gilnean, still. She is strong, she is nobler than half the human noblemen are, and she is of a high class. Nothing can put her away from that.

She licks her lips and stands up after a couple of rounds of the game. It lasted half an hour, and the result is usually a draw. They are boring, and the game is too simple to be intriguing to watch.

She paces back and forth in the cell. There is nothing to do. The past days she had some training, but she has no more. She sighs again. It is so boring down there. Even the trainings were not much fun, but at least she had something to occupy her for a while.

She tries to listen to what the guards are saying. They do not speak often, but now there is a new voice amongst them. A rough voice, a voice now yelling, "Let me go!" A new criminal, how great.

She frowns as Maverick marches past her cell, telling something to the guards in a growl. She was not too concentrated, so has no idea what he has just said. Runa steps out of the cell, only to be pushed back by a mass of Bandanas. She curses in herself, almost stumbling down on the cold stone floor. She folds her arms, her cellmates sparing each a glance at the mass passing by, towards the guards. Shouts erupt, and so does the clinging of metal against metal. Swords clash as the criminals fight the guards. Runa can hear people coming downstairs, rushing to help. Fruitless actions, those. The criminals push forward, bodies falling on the ground. Runa peeks through the opening of the cell room. The criminals have indeed climbed up the stairs and broken out of the Stockade. More shouts are heard from above, more metal clinging, more guard bodies thumping down ungracefully in their heavy plated armour.

Somehow, more criminals come by, tossing a sword at Runa. She catches it and sees the opportunity to escape. She follows them upstairs, pretending to swing the sword at the guards until they really attack her. She is not skilled, having only days of training, but fends them off with a lot of clumsy parrying and quick dodging. She stumbles backwards outside of the area above the entrance to the dungeon, tossing the heavy sword away and running with all her might, earning a slash on her arm in the process.

Pain, hurt, blood, a lot of stinging and itching. Runa almost lets out a growl, barely holding in a transformation. The hot sun burns at her skin, making the wound sting only worse. Her arm is whole shaking from the stinging pain of the slash. She continues to run. She crosses the bridge and runs through the small tunnel, if it could be called a tunnel, to Trade District, the one with blue roofs. She turns right, then left at the inn, and dashes right again, towards a large exit from the district and to the Valley of Heroes.

Blood is dripping down her arm, feeling horrible. It is mostly a ticklish feeling, but the knowledge of it being blood makes it ten times worse. A red liquid dripping down her hand as she escapes is not really nice. Especially with the pain. She feels her arm is weaker and weaker by the passing moment, the wound making it useless. Why does it have to be a right hand?

Runa shakes away the thought, pushing past all the people and leaving a small blood trail behind. She just needs to cross the bridge.

Then again, it is a large bridge. Wide and long. She could just toss herself in the water, that is much easier. Then again, guards shout after her. They must have followed her out of the Stockade. She must continue to run. If she stays, she is dead. Perhaps not dead, but back in the Stockade. Prisons do not make sense to her. If someone did something bad enough to be put in prison, why not just kill him? It is easier than guarding that rioting mass planning a massacre of the guards while chilling in the dungeon. Runa takes in a deep breath. Just how did she start thinking of the sense of prisons? She has to run.

So she runs. She speeds up a little more, grimacing at the stinging in her whole arm and shoulder. She needs it patched up and cleaned up. Her legs hurt from the running. She was only sitting around in the prison, so of course she got a bit out of shape. A week of nothing is too much. Even those fencing trainings were not tasking enough to be a proper training.

Runa sucks in a deep, shaky, and biting breath as she runs over the border of the city and the forest outside. She does not stop, no matter the pain.

However, at some point, she drops. She feels so weak, suppressing the pain in her legs and her arm, as well as the transformation. The guards catch up, catching their breath. They straighten up, take a deep breath, then pull her off the ground, dragging her back in the city. "No luck this time, girl," one of them says with a snicker. "Perhaps in another riot."

Runa curses in herself. A true Gilnean would never allow oneself to end up in such a situation. She curses again.

The blue roofs are above her head again. Soon, the roof of the Stockade is above her again. There is peace there while dead bodies are being dragged away, new guards staying there to watch.

Through a pain in her head, Runa recognised a certain greasy, dirty blonde hair. The person looks at her, then hops off the wall around the stairway. "You can leave her to me," he says, grabbing her unharmed arm. She stumbles to him, shutting her eyes. She feels so weak. "Poisoned swords, really? You are not rogues." Runa leans on William as he leads her away, his strong large hands guiding her.

"Well, do we have a choice, with such rioters?" some guards replies, out of Runa's line of blurry sight. She shakes her head a bit, adding to the pain. William spits, pulling her after him. They are probably on their way to where she was before she killed those men.

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A/N

Thank you for reading :3 And bearing with me! If you liked this, how about a review? A simple "I liked it" and your thoughts in general are enough to keep me inspired to write. :3 Readers are what keeps the author moving! (Except perhaps George R.R. Martin :P)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - agh, again, it has been ages/months XD well, if there is anyone reading this, I hope you enjoy and feel generous to leave a comment/review :D

**On the way away, yet back**

The several days of Runa's imprisonment at the rogue headquarters, if that is where she is, pass slowly. She drank many potions over the days against the poison's harsh though slow effects, and they gave her new clothes, as well as good food. She felt better after just the first day, but the rogues will not let her out, not even around the settlement. She is locked in her small dark room, and so she spends the passing days.

"Stupid humans," Runa says, sitting with her hands crossed in her lap. Stormwind humans, like William, for example, are those she thinks stupid. She only gives William gratitude for getting her out of the Stockade because she is not for such a place. However, she is not for the dark place of the rogues, either. It is too dark, again, in that small room she is settled in. She wants Gilneas back. If not Gilneas, she wants at least Lor'danel and the life of an orphan again, as horrible as it is. She had no problems with the Curse in Lor'danel, and that is a major bonus to it. "Damned hearthstones."

"What did they ever do to you?" William asks, entering the dark room, a lingering smile on his face. Runa frowns at him, erasing the smile.

"One brought me here," she says. He nods.

"I see," he says. "Where are you from?"

"Gilneas?" Runa says, stating the obvious.

"I mean on the elven lands."

"Lor'danel," she says, rolling her eyes. It is the first stop to all worgen escaping from Gilneas. It is two different continents, Gilneas and Lor'danel, but Runa never questioned it. Elves are dearer to her than humans. Stormwind humans.

"Good," he says. "I can send you back there, you know. Gilneas, I mean. Though Lor'danel is an option, too." Runa raises her eyebrows. "However, I do not think you will like what you find there. You don't seem to remember what happened to Gilneas."

"Are you trying to say there is nothing left there?" Runa says, though she does not seem convinced. They made quite a stand against the walking rotten corpses, from what she saw while she was leaving with the night elves on one of their ships.

"It is not a nice place to visit," William says. "There is no life for you back there." Runa shakes her head away.

"I still want to go there," she says. "I'll see for myself."

"Sure, but I am going to go with you," he says, arms folded. He furrows his eyebrows. "You are going to need a ride back." Runa grimaces. She does not want to believe his words. Would anyone?

"Whatever you say," she says.

Once more, days have passed. Runa is agitated, pacing around her room all the time, almost pulling her hair out while waiting. She hates waiting. It is still dark in there, only a dim light from a couple of candles giving her some illumination now. It feels worse than the Stockade. There, she at least had someone to talk to, or someone to observe while playing a cards game for dimwits. However, she had some company, even if they were criminals and humans. Stormwind humans. Still, they are better than solitude.

"Just what is taking you so long?" Runa hisses as William enters her room. He frowns.

"Can you do anything else other than complain?"

"No."

"I guessed so." He shoves a parchment in her hand with words written in black ink. It says, in Common, she is free to go and given the chance to become an adventurer in the future, like a lot of young people from around the world.

"What's an adventurer?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and placing her finger on the word.

"A person who travels around the world, fights evil for a living, and helps the ones in need along the way, no matter who they are, as long as they are at least neutral with the faction," William recites, a blonde eyebrow raised. "One is allowed to start as an adventurer at the age of eighteen." Runa sighs. "You really should travel around to learn things about this world. You live in it, after all."

"That's two years away for me," Runa says, ignoring his many last words that bother her.

"Anyway," William says, "if you are going to go with me, I need a name." Runa grimaces. A name. If only she knew her real one.

"The few people I know in Stormwind know me as Runa," she says in the end, backing a step away from William, letting him take the paper. She feels uncomfortable being a step away from another human who is not a relative or best friend. Let alone when they are a human like that. A Stormwind human.

"Fine, Runa it is," he says, then nods to the door, walking away. "Come, we can go right now if you want." She lingers, but follows him outside. She is eager to reach Gilneas as soon as possible. However, she has so idea where this Stormwind lies, and how far it is from her home.

They walk through some dark corridors, finally reaching the hot summer sun on the outside. They indeed are in Old Town, or just outside it, surrounded by a small area of grass and trees. Old Town is steps away, and William leads Runa through it and to Trade District, there leading her up to a platform.

A funnily dressed man is standing at the other end, scratching a massive golden gryphon on the head. The beast is resting in a rough, large nest alike those for hippogryphs in Lor'danel. One does not have to be a genius to realise they are going to fly to Gilneas.

Runa grimaces. She has never been on a great height to know she fears it for sure, but a feeling in her gut tells her it is not something she wants to try out. She takes in a deep breath, looking over the edge of the platform, seeing the Valley of Heroes stretching before her. It is not quite high, but she still feels shaken a bit. Heights, something new she dislikes.

"We are not going to fly, are we?" she asks in hope, interrupting William's friendly banter with the funny man. The man removes the goggles from his eyes, raising an eyebrow, the look in his eyes showing her he thinks she is crazy.

"Yes, we are, actually," William says, glancing at her. He looks back at the man. "Right. I need Rero."

"Rero? What is that?" Runa frowns. _Some sort of a name?_

"My dragon," William says as the funny man messes with a massive desk behind him, rummaging through some smaller and larger boxes. Finally, he hands William a single bronze coin.

"Here you go," the man says in a deep voice, contradictive to his flashy appearance. Just moments later, he returns to scratching the head of the gryphon observing them.

"Thanks, Dungar," William says, flashing the coin before Runa. "You have a lot to learn, you know. I told you that already. Anyway, I can call Rero with this. The mages have made a special realm, or whatever, to store mounts and pets so they don't follow you around all the time. You can summon them when you need them."

"Interesting," Runa says, her uninterested face giving her away. In Gilneas, there was no need to remove your pet to some magical realm - the mastiffs listened to your commands and stayed put when you told them. When you needed them, or thought there was a possibility to need them along the way, you just took them with you. They were never a bother.

"It is handy for adventurers with a large number and variety of pets and mounts, like me," William says in addition, meddling with the coin until a large dragon of bronze scales materialises by his side. William grins at Runa's wince. "There! Meet Rero, a bronze drake."

"Hello there," Runa says, backing away from the beast that leaned its head closer, its piercing yellow eyes staring at her. It makes not a sound, but lets out heavy, hot breaths through its nostrils. Runa does not like the look of it. It indeed has the magnificence of dragons described in stories, but looks far more threatening and aggressive up close. She takes another step backwards. She feels weak close to it, and shocked, as in stories, dragons are many times larger, greater, and stronger.

"He won't do anything to you," William says, trying to reassure her. "He will only carry us to Gilneas. It is far to the north, more or less, but closer with him." Runa sighs. There is nothing she can do, right? That beast is her fastest way out.

Therefore, despite her lack of liking for heights and now dragons, she climbs up on the back of the scaled beast, sitting in the large saddle behind William. He holds the reins tight and glances over his shoulder to check if she is set to go. The flashy man, Dungar, observes them through his goggles as they fall a short distance before Rero spreads his wings and lifts himself up to the sky. For Runa, it was the worst of the shortest experiences ever. It lasted a second, yet felt like eternity.

She takes in a deep breath, glancing down at Stormwind beneath them, her fingers digging into William's ribs. Rero is constantly going up and down as he flaps his wings with strong, slow movements. They are moving fast. Just moments later, they are flying along the coast, the city more and more left behind them. They fly closest possible to the mountains, soaring above the rippling blue water of the ocean spreading far to their left, large waves crashing against the mountains, the sun glistening on the restless surface.

William fidgets, that way telling Runa to ease on the grip. "Sorry," she says, grabbing the saddle behind her to hold on to. After a time too long, she is finally on her way back to Gilneas. She cannot wait.


	7. Chapter 7

**A new home**

Water splashes against the coast, reaching far towards the inside, then pulling back. The piece of land resembles nothing it was before, the area plagued with rotting corpses dragging their feet on their journey across the land. It is wondrous how there are corpses which can actually run, while there are those barely moving.

Runa's eyes flit across the scenery beneath them, locking them on some particular scenes plaguing her home. There is not a single living soul breathing the dead air of the once proud land. Only wild mastiffs remain as a trace of the Gilnean human nation. Runa opens her mouth, then closes them. "Just... this. It is...," she whispers. William says not a word, doing nothing but steering Rero in silence, flying in circles above Gilneas. The city is far from what it was back before the battle with the Forsaken.

"Want me to land?"

Lost in her thoughts, Runa does not reply to his question, but he does so nonetheless. Rero yawns, letting out a loud sound as he does so. His whole body shakes before he lies down on the ground. William slides off his back, while Runa remains mounted on the bronze drake adjusting his lying position, wings folded close to his body. Runa looks around, taking a longer look before coming back from her own little world.

"What am I going to do? I am not going back to Lor'danel as a useless orphan," she says.

"Adventurer's life," William coughs. She says nothing, still not dismounting. Her stomach turns inside her, her heart as if clenching tighter and tighter. Some undead corpses lazily raise their rotten faces towards them with little to no hostility, soon looking away and walking on.

"I cannot," she says. "It is a lot of new things." William sighs.

"I have good friends who can take good care of you," he says. "All four of us can watch over you for the next two years, and teach you what you need to know before you start." Runa gulps, scratching her throat. "Or you can go to Stormwind's orphanage, though there are mostly only kids below ten years of age. There are older ones, too, but you will be the oldest, as those around your age already work and try to move away, or go to school and work the rest of the time. It is tough, but that is how it is."

"An adventurer's life, it is," Runa says, rubbing her cheeks with her palm, reddening her face more than just the thin tear trails. William fidgets.

"Very well, then," he says. Runa shivers, adjusting in the sitting position. "Back to Stormwind." He sighs, climbing back up on Rero's back, the dragon groaning before stretching his wings in preparation for another long flight. "No, wait, we will rest somewhere first." The drake, as if understanding, takes to the sky and settles back down on top of a hill, growling and hissing at the undead.

After a rather long time of William working on their semi-settlement for the day, both curl up by Rero's campfire for the colder night, despite the summer. The sun has not yet set, but they do not have anything to do, anyway. Her only problem is her better, but still not good enough transformation control.

Rero roars with his mighty lungs, snapping his jaw at the other bronze drake hissing at him, namely Kirzdormu or Kirz, or so William says. A non-human nudges this Kirzdormu, who falls silent.

"Long time no see. Been hiding in the shadows?" the person speaks in a soft female voice, luminescent blue eyes staring at William dismounting from a Rero who is still growling with a closed mouth. William nudges the bronze beast, and he falls silent as well, engaging in a staring contest with the other drake.

"Kind of," William replies, staring back. Even though she has no pupils, or so it seems, her gem-like eyes seem to have something telling others where the strange non-human is looking. Her pale bluish skin and pale brown hair contrast starkly against the rest of the colourful city, stark against even her own dark leather armour. She runs a hand along one of her tilde-like horns sticking from above her pointed ears, tucking her hair over and behind it, her fringe falling back over her forehead.

"Salee missed her roguish brother," the female says with slight growling in her voice, folding her long arms and accentuating the last word, her thin fingers tapping against her upper arm. Her face seems warm, with a soft facial structure and lines, her large eyes soothing and warm, despite the coldness of the eye colour or the look she is giving to William.

"Great," William says. He glances over at Runa, who slides off the beast and approaches. She has seen this female is significantly taller than William, who is quite taller than Runa, but standing by her side makes the height more formidable. She could easily be half a metre taller.

"I am Tash," says the female, her eyes searching Runa's, her hand waiting for a handshake. This Tash is not a human, not a Stormwind human, so Runa might as well give a chance to a different race she knows nothing of.

"I am Runa," she says. "What is the name of your race?" Tash, though seeming surprised by the question, forces a slightly confused smile on her face.

"I am a draenei, coming from Drae...Outland," she says. "Though my race originates from Argus." Strands of pale, slightly wavy hair fall in front of her pale face as she leans down slightly. Her eyes are still locked on Runa's.

"Oh, yes," Runa nods, faking knowledge. Tash raises an eyebrow, glancing at William.

"Mage Quarter," she says, then turns to her drake. "Kirz." She snaps her fingers, the drake fading away and finally disappearing. Before Rero gets to groan, he disappears into his own nothingness at William's command. "Come, Runa." The draenei hurries after William, her thin tail with a golden ring swinging behind her, her large cloven hooves clanking against the cobblestone. Runa, bewildered, follows suit, sparing a glance at the Stockades just outside of the district, her face flinching at the sight. Her feet move on their own a few steps to the side, as if to avoid the place.

The two lead the way through the Stormwind district of violet roofs on the tall buildings, a large tower rising from the centre of the district's heart. William and Tash climb up the entrance and enter into a tavern, a wooden sign with a mug hanging above the entranceway. There are people chattering inside, filling half the tables. Tash pushes in front of a groaning William, leading the two humans behind her towards the bar. A dark skinned man of black hair stares at them, offering them beverage. Runa shakes her head, sitting down where Tash motions her to, beside William.

A draenei female sitting on his other side, with her black hair in long pigtails and two thick locks of hair framing her face, is staring at Runa, leaning forward to see past William. Lying on the bar to be able to see Runa past the draenei is a female night elf with her luminescent amber eyes, shorter than the draenei, but still taller than the average man, her long dark blue hair lying in a mess on the bar or falling down her back, her mark colour matching hair. Tash settles next to Runa.

"Runa, these two are our friends," William says, pointing at the curious duo to his left. The bartender places a Dwarven Stout before him.

"Hello," says the draenei in a playful voice sitting up and stretching her arm out for a hearty handshake. "I am Salee." She is dressed in long blue and violet robes lined with silver, the material glistening under light as if it were metal.

"My name is Runa," the worgen replies.

"I am Kiarra," says the elf, lazily stretching her hand out. Runa accepts her handshake, as well. One race she knows she mostly accepts, except for that one family. "Feralleaf."

"Feralleaf?" Runa asks. It is a strange combination for a surname.

"It is custom made," says Tash, nudging Runa and chuckling. "She is a druid talented at both healing and scratching." With a glance, Runa notices the light shake of the elf's head.

"There, now you know all of us," William says.

"We are missing the other young addition to the team, though," adds Tash. "Or the other two, actually." She shrugs.

"So, Runa, how old are you?" asks the pigtails, leaning forward, pushing William out of the way.

"I...sixteen," Runa says.

"So...still underage?" says Kiarra. Runa nods. The elf turns her look to William. "She cannot join us, really. You want us to mentor her, or what?"

"That, or the orphanage," William explains.

"This, it is," says Salee, clasping her hands together, a grin across her blue face. "I do not mind mentoring anyone." She tilts her head. "What class are you aiming for, anyway?" Runa shrugs her shoulders. Back home, she has been a druid in training. Some knowledge remains, due to the rare trainings in Lor'danel.

"Druid," she replies, remembering William asking her the same question.

"Mine!" says Kiarra, sitting straight up. Her face changed from lazy to excited, eyes brimming with energy. The fast reaction surprises Runa, while the others only look at her normally. "You can only learn properly from another druid." Salee sighs.

"This means you are a worgen, no?" Tash asks. Runa shudders, turning to the pale draenei. Tash blinks. "Sorry, Gilnean."

"No, it's okay," Runa says, raising her hands slightly. "I am Gilnean, yes." Kiarra smiles.

"But, anyway, I will bring you to Moonglade for trainers of the Cenarion Circle," she says. "I will assist you at times. That place will help you out. A lot." Runa nods. "We will talk about it later." She stands up, tucking her hair behind one long characteristic ear. "I have to go." She passes behind them, patting Tash's head along the way, disappearing through the open doorway.

"Would you like to stay with us, in our house? By us, I mean Kiarra and myself," says Tash, running a hand over her hair. "Salee lives in Dalaran, and William is with the SI:7." Runa stares at her for a longer moment before speaking.

"I...if I am welcome," she says, fidgeting in her seat. Her ears catch the cheerful conversation between Salee and William, the draenei truly showing a close relationship with the human.

"Of course you are! You have nowhere else to go, anyway," Tash says. She winces. "Sorry, I mean..." Runa turns her attention back from the silly chats behind her.

"No, no, there is no need to be so cautious around me. I have always been aware of my situation," she shrugs, her face dropping. "I am fine." Her pride nearly explodes in her, her eyes observing the tavern full of drunk non-Gilnean humans. The only Gilneans she sees will be those fully accepting their Curse, and those people parading in their deformed bodies.

"If you say so," says Tash, an expression of discomfort masking her face. She stands up. Runa follows suit when Tash greets the duo. "Come. Let me take you home."

**A/N:** Reviews are appreciated.

P.S. - I seriously have to rewrite this stuff. I've recently found out humans are of age/mature/reach adulthood at 15. XD I will do so...in the future. Once this is finished. (gahah) XD Cheerio!


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